


Pacific

by FleetRed



Series: OK in the End [3]
Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Catharsis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/referenced noncon, Love, Metaphors, Sunsets, because this is the future, conclusion, healthy dialogue, people just saying their feelings, self-driving cars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetRed/pseuds/FleetRed
Summary: It's July of 2019, and Murdoc has made great strides in being a better person. The band says that they've forgiven him, but he knows there's more to it than that. Somehow, the relationship between him and 2D has grown cold.Then, a production company invites the gang to LA to talk about producing a TV show. A deep conversation between Murdoc and 2d in a long car ride is just what the bass-player needs to figure out how to get his mate back.





	1. Fault lines

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I had to write a THIRD story about emotional healing between 2D and Murdoc...This is the LAST one though. THE END! This is supposed to be your emotional catharsis. You can read the other parts in the series but it's not even close to necessary.
> 
> Also, Chapter 1 is a flashback, but the rest takes place in the future. 
> 
> Enjoy, and don't forget to comment!

_May 23rd, 2013_

"Do you think it will get better?"

Noodle hadn't noticed 2-D leaning the counter, looking out the window, his back to her, until he spoke. She paused for a moment, observing. Her friend was wearing a black zip-up with the hood pulled up, and as she walked beside him to get a better look, she noticed he was rubbing his left wrist, and averting his gaze from her. A bandaid was above his right eyebrow, yellow bruising spilling out from beneath it.

Yes, it happened again.

Noodle thought she had better put some tea on.

As Noodle boiled the water, she reached for a certain, special, blue mug, with tacky palm trees and the word "Jamaica" painted on it. It was 2-D's favorite. She picked a plain black one for herself. Noodle poured the tea and handed 2-D his; he didn't look up but he reached for it, warming his hands on the side. 

"Yes, I think it will get better," Noodle started. "It will be OK in the end. If it's not OK, it's not the end."

2-D looked up at her, and her heart fell through her stomach. He was pale and a little sweaty, his hair sticking to his creased forehead, circles under his eyes darker than usual. 

"Well, when is it gonna end?" he asked. He looked so forlorn that Noodle felt guilt run through her. It wasn't her fault that this had happened, but she had grown so used to the relationship between her two housemates that maybe she didn't react strongly enough in the aftermath. Or even when she heard the curses, thumps, and cracks through the walls. 

2-D wasn't finished. "I always thought that I should tough it out when Muds does it. I could weather the storm for sunnier days. You know, sometimes, he's really nice, and I think he's changed. I thought he'd stop hurting me, but he hasn't!" The man was gesturing madly, his face contorting. 

"D, you're going to be fine!" Noodle assured him. "Talk to me, what did he do?"

"I can't even tell you, Noodle. There were so many times when you didn't even know. I'm never supposed to tell, it always gets worse. And I'm humiliated that it happened. But how am I supposed to hide everything when it hurts so much?" That's when the tears came. Noodle was taken about by how quick and devastating the breakdown was.

"I'm sorry 2-D," Noodle said, lowly. "You know, we care about you. All of us. Even him." She opened her arms to offer an embrace, which he accepted. She rested her head against his chest and gently stroked his back.

"I know he cares. That's why he doesn't know what he does is wrong, maybe. I can't tell you what he did, he'll—" Suddenly, 2-D let out a short gasp and turned his head to the stairwell, pushing away from his friend. Noodle could see his wet, puffy face, and hear faint footsteps from above.

"Noods, please don't say anything, he'll—" Panicked, 2-D wiped at his eyes, and looked at the tears on his hands. "Bugger!" he exclaimed, and looked around.

Curiously, 2-D reached a long arm towards the mug on the counter and swiped it off, sending it shattering to the ground and tea spilling everywhere. Noodle was stunned. That was clearly intentional; why would 2-D smash his own favorite mug?

2-D frantically wiped at his eyes before Murdoc got to the bottom of the stairs and entered the kitchen.

Murdoc ignored them both for a few seconds, reaching for the fridge. But when 2-D let out a small gasp, he turned towards them.

"Oi, why are you crying, Faceache?" Murdoc carefully eyed Noodle.

"My mug broke," 2-D quickly insisted, pointing to the shattered remains on the floor.

"Dullard," the bass-player dismissed casually. "Come on. I need your help with something."

2-D looked at the floor, then at Noodle, as though he wasn't sure whether to obey Murdoc or stay and clean up the mess.

"It's ok, I got it," Noodle offered. She put her hand on her friend's shoulder before he left and looked into his eyes. "Call me if you need anything, ok?"

2-D nodded and followed the bass-player away. Noodle looked down at the mess.

"I can fix that," she thought. It would be nice to put together the shattered remains of something the singer had once loved.

But it would be hard to repair something that was so thoroughly broken. And even then, it would never be the same.

 


	2. Highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months after 2-D moves out of the band's house, the gang is back together in LA. Murdoc gets him in a car for an hour, to talk it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there! Don't forget to comment!

_July 23, 2019_

"Sure was nice of the label to set us up with a hotel, but why is it so far away from the meeting spot?" 2-D asked as they stepped outside the Santa Monica production studio. Against all odds, and for the first time in months, the demon bass player walked beside him. 

Of course they hadn't seen each other when Murdoc was in jail, but things were starting to look up after the world tour. The gang had all lived together in the spirit house for a few months, Murdoc improving, drinking less, taking criticism, and being nice. But after Murdoc had an accident, 2-D had moved to an apartment halfway across town, and, in spite of Murdoc's apologies and efforts to reconnect, they hadn't seen each other in the flesh since.  

Murdoc was beginning to think it was all over between them. Luckily, the record label had set up a meeting with a film studio, and the band  _had_ to be together if they wanted to make a show. So, they were all in Los Angeles together, forced to talk to one another. 

"Oh, hotels are cheaper in Oxnard," Murdoc insisted. 

"Doesn't the long cab ride offset the price, though?" 2-D pondered. 

"The cars are self-driving now. The rides are basically free." 

"Then why are Russel and Noodle at a different hotel than us?"

Murdoc stiffened, annoyed at the questions. The truth was, the record label had not set up either the hotel stays nor the car ride they were about to take. Murdoc had; he had planned basically everything on this trip to Los Angeles. Soon after he had heard that the band would take part in making a TV series, and that they would need to visit producers in Santa Monica, he started orchestrating. He intentionally picked a hotel that was far away so that he could have private time in a car with 2-D, and he paid for the rooms himself. He would use this opportunity to bond with his mate, impress him, and get back on his good side. Murdoc had shaved and picked out his best outfit; a sleeveless black tank and exprnsive jeans. He even looked for a gift for the singer, but decided that giving it would be an awkward gesture. What he needed was time.

Text messages wouldn't do it. When Murdoc tried to reconnect, Stu wouldn't answer for a day or two, and then text back "So sorry, my phone was off!" Then, he would never try to reschedule plans. It made Murdoc want to puke. He wished Stuart would just scream at him and tell him what a terrible person he was, so he could cry and apologize and explain the terrible circumstances that made Murdoc the way he was. Or he wished Stuart would do something stupid so Murdoc had a reason to hate him back. Instead, he was trapped in a cold war of secret resentment. 

The sun was low over the water, spilling golden rays over the street and people. Tourists clamored through the crosswalk as the self-driving G-cab pulled up to the musicians. "I don't know why Noodle and Russ in a different hotel, D. I didn't schedule this trip. Hey, watch your head." The both of them ducked into the white, round car parked on Ocean Avenue, lugging their baggage with them into the strange, circular interior. The car was lined with white, padded seats so they could face each other. The voice in the robotic car spoke their destination, and drove away slowly in the traffic. 2-D, luckily, was distracted by the colorful Ferris wheel on the pier and the palm trees passing overhead, turning sideways to look out the window behind him, instead of pursuing Murdoc's interrogation.

"So I'm volunteering at the food closet now," Murdoc said as they sat down, and instantly regretted how obvious his braggadocio was. 

"Oh, that's great Murdoc," 2-D responded, turning to smile at him. "I'm really happy for you."

Wow. Fuck you too, Stuart. 

"Well, this show looks brilliant," Murdoc pivoted. "I was reading some of the scripts, and the nuance of the characters is bang-on."

"Yeah, the characters are very relatable. Especially 2-D," said 2-D. 

"Hmm. Hey, I saw a funny thing. The first episode we're going to film is apparently titled 'Murdoc goes to jail.' Do you know anything about that? My character's not going to be in jail...is he?"

"No, Muds," 2-D explained. "That's not the first episode. The first episode is 'Pilot.' I don't know where the aeroplane comes in."

"Then why does our packet say we're filming 'Murdoc Goes to Jail' first?"

"That's just in case."

"Just in case what?"

2-D crossed his legs and arms, and looked behind him, out the window at the expensive, blocky houses overlooking the beach. 

"It's in your contract, Muds. We haven't signed yet. You could probably negotiate a payout if it comes to that."

"If it comes to what, Stuart?"

Murdoc could see 2-D's chest rise and fall with a deep breath. "I'm sure we won't need that episode at all, Muds," 2-D mumbled. "We would just have that one on the shelf to use, just in case. If you, erm, slip up? Just in case someone gets hurt. If you do have an incident, we'll let you go, to get better by yourself for a while. We would give you some space, and you wouldn't have to worry about doing the show any more. Then we could just play the pre-recorded 'Murdoc goes to jail' episode, and it wouldn't mung up the story line too badly." 

Murdoc stared intently at the man in front of him, who would not return his gaze. The details of 2-D's face were hardly visible as the harsh light of the California sun poured through the window, reducing him to a gold-tinted silhouette, irritating Murdoc's eyes. He shifted his seat slightly to look at his band-mate sideways. 

"And whose idea was this?" Murdoc asked pointedly.

"Actually, it was my agent's idea."

"Why, pray tell, does _your agent_  want this...exit clause for me?"

"'Cause I wouldn't do the show otherwise."

Murdoc's brows furrowed and he almost lost his balance as the car sped up. He understood what was happening, but he wanted to hear 2-D say it, to be sure. "Why would you not want to do a show unless you knew I could get sacked?"

Stuart wrung his palms together like wet towels. Vertical bars of shadows passed behind him as the cab passed palm trees lining the beach. "I feel safer this way." 

"So you don't trust me," Murdoc huffed. Great, this heart-to-heart was already pissing him off. He wondered if the silent resentment was better than being told he needed a kill switch for anyone to work with him. "Because I slapped you  _once,_   _months ago_? I said I was sorry!" Murdoc's voice rose, but only slightly.

"And I said it was fine," 2-D responded quickly. 

"If it was fine, why did you move out five days later?" 

2-D started scratching at his arms through his grass-green sport coat. Murdoc recognized that nervous tick, and knew that, if it was practical, the singer would make an excuse and leave. But in a moving vehicle on the long expanse of the Pacific Coast Highway, he had nowhere to go. 

"D. Answer me." 

"I don't have to, Muds," Stu responded quietly, but without hesitation. 

"It's because you didn't forgive me at all, did you? You said you did, but you lied. I've done everything I can, and more, and you still say you don't feel safe! I brought you a sodding yak, and you took her with you to your new flat!"

"Well, Madge could stay with you if she liked. But I do hope she stays with me. You did give her to me because of Quentin." 

"Yes, and the yak  _more than_ makes up for your snail. So it should make up for one strike, too. Your bug wasn't even worth thinking about. Madge is worth a thousand disgusting snails." 

2-D gasped. "You don't talk about Quentin like that!" He balled his fists and set them on his knees, leaning forward. "Why are you saying this? It sounds like you don't understand why that upset me. Do you not understand why  _murdering_ my _pet_ was so bad? How can you be sorry if you don't even know what you did wrong?"

"It was just a snail!"

"Murdoc!" 2-D snapped, breathing hard. "I loved him! I was supposed to protect him! And I failed him, just by being around you! I hated myself for letting my guard down, for feeling safe for a few hours and not predicting that you would hurt him if I left to do something I wanted. He was my friend, Murdoc!" 

"I'll get you another dumb snail!" 

"There is no other dumb Quentin! You always think that you can do whatever you want and just apologize for it later, and it will just be one of your redemption arcs. But the people you hurt don't always get another chance!" His breathing was hard and raspy. "Quentin will never have another chance to live the life he was supposed to live, you go along with infinite chances, but there's no undoing what you did!"

So much for getting back on his good side. The singer was now patting the walls of the car, confusing Murdoc. 

"Are we stuck?" Stuart asked, apparently to no one in particular, pitched high with anxiety. Again, Murdoc didn't know how to interpret this. They weren't stuck, they  _weren't stuck._ There was always time to change. They had to move forward, things could get better. 

"Let me out!" 2-D called. 

The car pulled onto the shoulder, responding to his voice command, and one door opened. Murdoc watched powerlessly as his friend scrambled out of the vehicle and darted across the highway, towards the ocean. 


	3. Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun sets over a peaceful ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Let me know what you think!  
> Here's the song referenced at the end: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7nknzXYMJU

The white noise of the ocean whooshed into 2-D's ears as he ran north along the highway. He had no idea what he was doing or where he was going, but he needed space. He'd barely been alone with Murdoc for an hour, after months without him, and already 2-D had demanded that their robotic car pull over and let him out, so he could make a mad dash across traffic to the sandy edge of the road. He didn't even bring anything with him but his phone.

Making a Tele show was a good opportunity, he thought. It would be fun, and pay generously. This would be the perfect time in his life to do it. But Murdoc...it was so hard to feel good with him around. Thinking back on their past, how much fun they had together, how they felt about each other, how they hurt each other.

He slowed to a brisk walk, looked out over the Pacific and thought about Plastic Beach. He remembered looking over the ocean all those years ago through a black eye, on a plastic dock, and promising himself that, if he could help it, he would never be alone with Murdoc again.

But here they were. They moved back in together and did Humanz, and Murdoc joined them for part of The Now Now tour. And they were going to do a 10-episode show together. 2-D should be excited about it. Everyone told him to move forward and to forget what Murdoc did; he had apologized, hadn't he? He was so much better now. But 2-D didn't think he could really stop himself from thinking about the bad times. And he was suspecting that Murdoc wasn't really sorry, anyway.

It wasn't fair that his happiness and success was so severely impacted by Murdoc's actions. Even when they weren't terrible, they made him feel terrible, and that was his own fault.

It wasn't fair.

Stu knew he couldn't keep going, and he looked back. To no one's surprise, a figure carrying something was in pursuit. What was Stuart to do, run into the ocean? He stepped carefully down the weedy bank beside the highway towards the flat level of the beach, as seagulls squeaked and the ocean pulsed. He sat down in the sand at the corner of the bank, resting his elbows on his knees and crossing his arms. He was tired.

Murdoc reached him and plopped down beside him, panting. "Bloody hell..." he cursed.

2-D just looked out to sea. It would be nice if he could see the details, but at least he could recognize the general pinks, oranges and yellows as the sun descended. "What have you got there?" he asked.

Murdoc panted and looked at the black item he had brought from the G-Cab. "Ah. Oops. I meant to bring my bag that had my jacket in it. It's the ukelele."

2-D nodded. He wasn't sure what to say next. He didn't want to have to move from this spot, or be told to do anything, or be asked to explain anything to anyone. The sand underneath him was soft and warm, and the distant birds created a welcoming sound. He would have to sample it for a song one day.

Murdoc picked at his nails and shivered a little. LA was hot and sunny, but the wind from the ocean cooled them off considerably. He looked over at his friend, who was clawing at his own elbows, and he asked a question he had never before asked. "Are you OK?"

2-D perked up at the question. But, it was too complicated to answer fully. "Not really...but thanks for asking." He noticed Murdoc shiver again, and 2-D took off his jacket. He had a sweater on underneath, anyway. He handed the jacket to Murdoc.

Murdoc looked at the jacket and pressed his lips together before taking it. "Ehh, thanks."

"Can you do me a favor?" 2-D asked.

"Uh, sure mate."

"Tell me how you're feeling right now. Take your time."

Murdoc spent several seconds looking directly at 2-D, who wouldn't look back. Stu knew Murdoc really wanted to answer, but wasn't used to talking about his feelings unless drunk or high. Murdoc shrugged his shoulders. "I feel like I tried so hard to get better, and I did get better. I didn't hit—I barely hit you. I let you do what you wanted. But it was all pointless because you hate me anyway."

"I, I don't hate you. It wasn't pointless."

"Really? Because when I was controlling you, you didn't abandon me. You talked to me. You stayed with me. You helped me, and we lo—cared about each other on Plastic Beach. And now you don't even care about all the progress I've made, and you ignore me, and we're not even mates anymore. So I don't see the point."

2-D ruminated, and tried to understand if Murdoc was making some sort of subtle threat. It didn't help that 2-D's brain was always clouded and he couldn't pick up on things. He never knew when someone was trying to warn him, so he assumed that threats were being made all the time. But the look on Murdoc's face convinced him otherwise. It was contorting, and as the bass player draped the green jacket around his shoulders, it looked as though he was about to cry.

"I'm sorry, Murdoc. You're right. You have made a lot of progress, and I should give you credit for that. Thank you for not trying to control me. Thank you for Madge. Thank you for asking to come over instead of showing up at my flat and stalking my friends. And I appreciate that you don't hit so much. Really, it means a lot."

Murdoc's eyes were glassy, and there was a hitch in his voice. "Do you really think you're going to have to kick me off of the show?"

"No!" 2-D insisted. In truth, he had no idea. But he knew it would be smart to convince Murdoc that he was better now, and there was nothing to worry about. "You're a different person now! You'd never hurt your friends again, because you're stronger now. You're better. You're more in control."

"I feel less in control."

"Well, you can't control other people. In ways that really matter, you never could. But you can control yourself, and you'll be happier that way."

Murdoc huffed.

"Also...it's not just about you," 2-D continued. " _I'm_ a lot happier with the new you."

"Stu," Murdoc grumbled. "I liked things the way they were. We were so close. Was I ever even that bad?"

2-D tensed. Again, it was as though Murdoc didn't really understand what he had done wrong, and that made his apologies meaningless. How would he stop acting like a monster if he never understood what a monster he was? Stu didn't know if anything he said would help.  "You were really good sometimes, and I'm proud of you for doing such great work. But, yes. You were that bad. It was bad. A lot of times it was hell for me. You really hurt me, in more ways than one."

"Maybe ten percent of the time," Murdoc countered. "I'd say being good ninety percent of the time life is plenty."

"It isn't, though," Stu retorted in a high voice. "It wasn't. Even if you were only hurting me sometimes, at some point I was afraid  _all_ the time. Because I didn't know _when_  you were going to turn. If you hit me for a second, I could be sore for days. And I couldn't even enjoy the _nice_ things that you did for me because I had no idea if they were actually cruel things. I didn't know if you were inviting me out just to embarrass me in front of people, or if you brought me food that was drugged, or if you were smiling because you had something horrible in mind." 2-D knitted his eyebrows together and clenched his hands. "You're...you  _were_ like a migraine. Even if it only hurts part of me...the pain is really all I can think about."

2-D was starting to breathe heavily and tremble. He didn't want to cry. If he couldn't weather one deep conversation with Murdoc without breaking down, he thought, their band, their show, their entire future was doomed. Even if Murdoc turned into the perfect gentleman, maybe Stu's own abused brain was going to turn them on each other. His vision narrowed, and he thought about how he deserved to scream at Murdoc. But it was up to him to act in a way that made Murdoc nicer, and screaming wouldn't help. It really wasn't fair that this fell on him. It wasn't easy, thinking about the pain of yesterday while also feeling responsible for stopping it from happening in the future. 

"We were so close," Murdoc continued. "I thought with everything we did together, that meant something beautiful. Like the song? 'We have the power to be loving each other no matter what happens.' I thought what we did up in my room meant we maybe sort of loved each other."

2-D scoffed and stared at Murdoc in shock. "What we did  _together?"_ he mocked. "You mean what  _you_ did to  _me!"_

Murdoc opened his mouth sadly, but then knitted his brows together in confusion. "What--you never said you had a problem with it!"

"Like you would have listened to me anyway!" 2-D cried. "Any time I resisted you, you would hurt me!" 

"What was I supposed to do, read your mind?"

Stuart was devastated that Murdoc didn't seem to feel guilty about these repeated assaults. Maybe he would once 2-D explained it to him, though. But that could be a problem, too. If Murdoc hated himself because of his past actions too much, he would start to think of himself like some sort of two-dimensional villain, capable only of evil, and uninterested in trying to grow. Maybe the bass player would resign himself to the role of irredeemable antagonist and leave it at that. 

Maybe it would have been wiser to have just said that he  _did_ love Murdoc. 

That was strange, too. That Murdoc had just used the 'L' word. It was hard to imagine that he cared for the singer at all, but, on retrospect, that made sense considering some of the things Murdoc had said to him. 2-D didn't have a perfect memory of everything that happened on Plastic Beach. Maybe if his mind had been clearer, if he hadn't tried to block it out so much, or if so much time had not passed, he would have been able to put together the signs. Murdoc was in love with him. 

But that doesn't matter. Well, it  _does_ matter, and provides context for a lot of Murdoc's actions. But it doesn't excuse them. 

"Murdoc," Stu continued carefully. "Any time you have that much power over someone, they aren't really free to agree to anything. I had no voice, I couldn't make choices, because you kept me in fear, even if I didn't say no. And whether you did it because you hated me or you loved me, it was wrong. I'm not property or a toy or a fictional character for you to play with. I don't care if you wank to the thought of being with me, or hurting me, or killing me, but actually hurting a real person is wrong."

Murdoc looked as though he was one strong gust of wind away from coming apart at the seams. He patted his chest--a telltale sign of searching for his absent flask. He turned to face Stu, who was looking back softly, but expectantly. 

"Stu, I...Satan, I'm a bad man."

"You don't have to be," 2-D encouraged. 

"I am so,  _so_ sorry."

2-D crossed his arms and turned back to the ocean. The sun was dark red, and the features on their faces were harshly illuminated.

"Hm. Thanks for saying that."

"And, you have a point," Murdoc continued. "I didn't understand why what I had done was wrong. And I will probably do other bad things that I don't know are bad. But I  _do_ care about you, Stuart. So much. I want you to be happy, and I want you to tell me when I'm doing something wrong. OK? I don't want to hurt you anymore. Even if I don't understand it, I won't do things if you tell me they're hurtful. OK?"

2-D was covering his face with his arms, trying to control his breathing, but he nodded. Through the space between his arms, he could see the sun touching the top of the horizon, making the water sparkle. How could someone have feelings like this, he wondered. How could he care about someone so much, but feel so heartbroken around him as well? He wondered if Murdoc felt the same.

They sat for a long time. The only sounds were their breaths, the sea gulls, and the hushing tone of the waves.

Eventually, he heard the unbuckling sound of an instrument case being opened. Then, a gentle strumming of the uke. 

Murdoc had a way of making the instrument somber and beautiful, in spite of the ukelele's inherent pluckiness. 2-D recognized the cords as a song that had come on the radio when they were touring in Montreal, and that they had learned to play together many years ago. 

2-D moved his arms and watched as the sun slowly sank into the sea. Murdoc played the same chords over and over, and Stu took comfort in the predictability of repetition. String instruments were invariably calming for him. 

Stu took several deep breaths, and after five minutes of strumming, the singer joined in the song. 

_"Here's a man of sorrows, children_   
_As constant as the sea_   
_Searching for a heart_   
_That's lost it's stone._

_Such a perfect pairing, dear one,_   
_the Pacific and its rock_   
_A battle weighed on scales we can not know._

_Let's just sit here a little bit longer with these scarred and healing hearts._   
_Let's just say that they were damaged from the start._

_Let's just say that they were damaged from the start_."

With that, Stu dropped his voice, signalling the end of the song, and Murdoc completed the chord. He carefully placed the instrument by his side. 

"D," he said softly, as he reached over his right hand and gently rested the back of his knuckles on the side of 2-D's knee. "Things can never go back to the way they were before, eh?"

"No, Murdoc, we can never go back. We can only go forward. We can never get back what we had." 

Murdoc swallowed and nodded as the last rays of sunlight died over the sea, the sun dipping below the water and the cool air washing over them. 2-D reached his left hand to Murdoc's and interlaced their fingers. The singer looked over to meet his gaze. 

"It can't be like how it was," he continued.

"It will be better."


End file.
